Liaison
by Yesterday's dreams
Summary: With the Chesapeake Ripper case reopened, Jack Crawford is desperate to have all the help he can get, even in the form of Doctor Lecter's expertise. Agent Starling is named the unofficial liaison officer and she is not happy about it, nor is she particularly impressed by the good doctor himself. Doctor Lecter finds her very fascinating, though. AU, movies/books/TV show strange mix.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters of this story and I do not make any money. It's written for entertainment purposes only. Thank you.

Read and review, have fun and forgive grammar and spelling mistakes. English is my second language so feel free to let me know about anything amiss, I'd be happy to correct it. Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter one**

The heavy rain abated a little and Clarice Starling had to face the unavoidable truth; she had no other excuses left. There was no way around it, though she had tried her best to put off the moment she would have to knock on Doctor Lecter's door as long as possible.

She was in a small cozy cafe on the street where his office was located. Starling needed strong coffee several times a day to function properly, so the cafe had been her first stop – and then it had started raining, giving her another excuse to sit in the warmth and wait. She had spent the past half hour doing nothing else but sending unhappy glances across the street, watching the rain and sipping her coffee.

Her mind was still swirling from the unexpected turn her career took two days ago.

* * *

Starling was wary when "The Guru" himself had wanted to speak with her – _immediately_. She met Jack Crawford in the corridors daily and remembered him well enough from his guest lectures at UVA; however, she couldn't imagine what he could want specifically from her. The head of the Behavioral Sciences Unit did not invite rookie agents in for friendly chats.

"Mr. Crawford, sir… Hello." She entered his office.

"Ah, Sterling!" He looked up from his papers and motioned her to sit. "Oh, sorry, it's Starling, right?"

"Yes sir, no problem, sir."

Starling sat down and watched him. He looked like he usually did – solemn and gray. His hair was salt-and-pepper, his tie grayish blue, and his waistcoat bluish gray. His eyes were dead just as they had been since the moment his wife had passed away.

"You must be wondering why I summoned you here."

"It crossed my mind, sir." Starling shrugged a bit. She did appreciate a break from cataloguing new files, of course, but Crawford made her uncomfortable. She couldn't tell why, it just was; and this whole situation seemed fishy to her – and she relied heavily on her instincts.

"How are you settling in the Bureau? No troubles, I hope?"

"Fine, sir, I'm just fine."

"Good, glad to hear that, Starling." He smiled a little and then buried his head in his papers again. "I remember you wanted to get into my department. You still do?"

Starling answered without any doubt, "Very much, sir."

He grinned, "That's great, Starling, I've kept an eye on you. You're doing well. In a year or two you could get in here on your own, but I've decided to help you along a bit."

"Well, thank you, sir, but if you don't mind me asking… Why?"

Crawford chuckled and shook his head: "Oh no, ask, always ask, always question everything. That's a good thing, Starling. To answer you, I have my reasons."

He closed the file and pushed it towards her. "Read."

Starling took it. The first thing she saw was an opened torso with all the insides – outside. Her eyes moved over the picture without flinching for she was aware that Crawford was intensely watching her, gauging her reaction.

After a minute she turned the page and was greeted with a photo of another massacred body. And then, another, and another.

"The Chesapeake Ripper, sir?"

"Yes."

"Why are you showing me this? It's a cold case, isn't it?"

"Get to the end, Starling."

Calmly, she did and then she halted, eyes widening. There was a _new_ _victim_. With professional interest she read through the new information and then closed the file, carefully putting it on the desk in front of her. Her eyes found Crawford's.

"How do we know it's him? It could be a copycat."

"It's not, Starling, and that's why I summoned you here. I want you on my team, working on this case."

She gazed at him in disbelief.

Rookies are always stuck pushing papers and conducting surveillance in the rain. The lucky ones get their hands on a bit of real work with senior agents. To slog through the groundwork is a slow and painful process, and Starling was just beginning.

"Why me, sir?" It was a logical question.

"You have the right instincts, that's why." Crawford took off his glasses and started polishing the lenses. "The only way to sharpen them further is to put them to good use. You could be pushing papers for months and it would get you nowhere. But what I want you to do is to be outside, working on your own and gathering info. You got it?"

"I got it."

"Good." He put his glasses back on and harshly added: "Make no mistake; you screw up and you will be pushing papers _for years_. You do well and you have a permanent spot in my department guaranteed."

"Yes, sir." Starling nodded and refused to be intimidated by his cold stare.

Now, he smiled and leaned back in his chair, watching her almost fondly: "I remember you, you know, from the UVA seminar. You'll do well now, too, I'm sure, Starling."

"I'll try." She chuckled a bit.

"All right, back to the point. Have you studied the case?"

"I've kept an eye on it as reference material and out of professional curiosity. So, I am familiar with the basic facts."

"Good, go look at the details, then." Crawford nodded, pleased. "We haven't expected him to make an appearance again and after so many years, no less. I hoped he was already rotting away somewhere, but here we are. I trust you know what happened to your predecessor?"

"Predecessor, sir? I thought I would be only assisting?"

"There will be others on the team, of course, but you are a trainee no longer, Starling, you are now a full-fledged investigator. Get used to it." He looked stern again, though she saw amusement flickering in his eyes. Maybe Crawford wasn't that bad after all.

"Sorry, sir."

"Well, do you know what happened to him?"

"He didn't end up well." Starling was not a gossip, but from what she had gathered about the legend of the BSU profilers, he hadn't been exactly stable – and one cold winter morning, Special Agent Will Graham had been found frozen to death on his porch.

"Graham was a genius, Starling, with instincts sharp as a razor." Crawford frowned a little. "But he had some issues – not that I'm saying anything bad about him, he was a friend, Starling, a very good friend."

"I understand, sir."

"Anyway, do you know Doctor Lecter?" He looked uncomfortable when he asked this and his eyes moved round the office as if it was a topic he would rather have avoided.

Starling watched him for a few moments before she very carefully answered: "I have heard of him, but I've never met him personally."

It was a good thing, she supposed, because she was not particularly impressed by what she had heard. Lecter was a brilliant psychiatrist, of course, but a very whimsical person.

"Good." Crawford nodded to himself and took a deep breath. "I want you to become our liason with the external experts, so you can get the right feel for your work. Your first task is to consult Dr Lecter on the case."

"Excuse me, sir?" Starling gaped at him a little, but recovered quickly. There were lots of stories going around the Bureau, some of them were concerning The Guru and his absolute dislike for externals in general, and for some names in particular.

"Lecter's input would be a great asset to us, Starling." Crawford looked like he had swallowed a bitter pill. "He worked with us in the past, as you know, and he and Graham were very close to solving the Chesapeake Ripper case."

A beat of silence, then: "I didn't know that Dr Lecter was back on board, sir."

She shifted. After Graham's death, Lecter had stopped actively working with the FBI, even made a fuss about it, too, and, finally, refused to be associated with the BSU in any way as long as Jack Crawford was in charge. Since that unfortunate event, which had delayed several ongoing investigations for which Lecter also had been the other external psychology consultant, Crawford preferred to have his own unit of the best experts available, without the need to rely on anyone outside the BSU.

Now he gave an impression of being in severe pain. "He is not…yet."

_Oh, great._

* * *

"That door must have done something terrible," said an amused voice above her and Starling looked up to see a man standing close to her table – he stepped even closer so another customer could pass him and head for the exit. He smiled pleasantly and gestured towards the unoccupied chair opposite her.

"Hello. Would you mind if I joined you? It is not my usual _modus operandi_, one could say, but you look very unhappy about something and I'm afraid I am rather curious by nature." He had an intense penetrating gaze and intelligent eyes which were studying her closely.

Starling inspected him with the same carefulness; he was heavily built and dressed in a classy dark brown suit with a shirt a shade lighter and a striped tie. His dark hair and smooth face belied his age, though she guessed he was somewhere in his forties or early fifties. In one hand, he held his hat, and his coat was draped over his arm.

She had very little doubt about his identity; though she was a bit unsettled by the fact that she hadn't noticed him inside the café. He did have a strong presence and she was an FBI agent, for Christ's sake. She should have spotted him immediately, not given him enough time to observe her sitting there and sending disgruntled glances towards the front door of the building where his office was.

Lecter patiently waited for her permission, which Starling gave a second later with a nod of her head. "Yes, of course, please."

"Thank you. So, what has that poor door done to you?" He settled down, laying his fedora on the table between them.

Starling knew he knew who she was and that he must have guessed why she was there. She wasn't trying to conceal her gun holder and the badge on her belt, both visible for anyone who looked for it, and her clothes, a plain two-piece suit, simply screamed 'government employee on a low salary'. It didn't take a genius to figure this one out.

"Nothing in particular, I guess."

"Oh, well, that is a good thing, _I guess_." He mocked her slightly. "It's not an easy task to extract revenge from a door, or so I've heard. Are you from West Virginia, by any chance?"

Starling's eyebrows shot up and she couldn't shake off the feeling he _was_ being contemptuous – not obviously, but she was used to this sort of behavior from some of her rich and city-bred classmates, and some of her colleagues. She tended to ignore it. _Mostly_.

"You have a fine ear for accents."

"It's a hobby of mine." Lecter clicked his tongue, watched her thoughtfully and added: "I am supposedly not bad listener, either. Perhaps you wish to share your troubles with me? Now, if you are thinking why you would do that, let me say it's sometimes easier to talk to someone unbiased, in other words, a complete stranger. Their insight is usually closer to the true state of things than your own conclusions could ever be."

"So you're all ears, right?" Starling asked with amusement. His own statement only reminded her that the good doctor was certainly biased.

"_Right_." Now he was imitating her accent completely, the arrogant ass, and he winked, smiling and showing his small, sharp and perfectly white teeth. That smile made her feel very uncomfortable, as if there was something else hidden behind it. It took her a millisecond to pinpoint why – it did not reach his eyes which had a suspiciously calculating gleam in them. In that moment, Lecter reminded her of Crawford and his awkward look when she had been informed of her first task.

Starling suddenly had the unpleasant feeling that she'd been caught in the middle of their petty little tug of war. Dammit, she was _nobody's_ pawn!

"Well, why not?" She said and looked down into her cup. _Let's play, then_. The thought was exhilarating, made her blood sing; Starling never backed down, never gave up. She enjoyed the challenges life threw at her, and playing with Lecter was a challenge indeed. She chose her next words carefully:

"It's this… complicated relationship I've suddenly found myself involved in."

"Yes? Do continue, please." He encouraged, and when she looked up into his face, she noticed that now he was truly amused, his eyes shining with interest at what else she could come up with. He was enjoying their banter, wasn't he? She knew she was. It was _fun_.

"Is it a lover's quarrel?"

"Oh, definitely. Though I should probably say it's not my relationship, I just got stuck as the go-between."

"Hmm, interesting. How does it make you feel?"

"Oh, I don't know. Annoyed, mostly."

"Understandable."

"Yes?"

"Very much so. Is that all?"

"It's rather amusing as well, I think."

"How so?"

"Two grown people… one would have thought they could solve their differences without dragging others into it. I imagine their conflict could even have a negative impact on their duties for, you see, they are not colleagues exactly, but their cooperation might be needed from time to time. Doesn't such a behavior strike you as childish and silly?"

His face became impassive after Starling's first sentence and now he was watching her coldly. It looked like the doctor certainly didn't like when the tables were turned.

"You possibly cannot be one of Jack Crawford's, can you?" He narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure he would have sent some very polite goody-goody who worships the ground he walks on, with very precise instructions _not_ to antagonize me in any way, and yet here you are, insulting us both and with great satisfaction, if I may say so."

"Is the truth insulting to you in any way?"

This time it was Starling who narrowed her eyes and they measured each other for a second. Something in his look shifted dangerously and her heart was suddenly frantically beating; she felt threatened but couldn't logically explain _why_. It was as if her instincts were screaming at her to back off, to shut the hell up, to run.

"You are a very frank person, Agent, so allow me to be frank, too. It is not about what you think to be the truth; that is your personal opinion to which you are entitled by the law, and according to the law, you can speak it freely. Whether you should do it or not, well…it is not just the way you present it that is lacking…actually, the fact you are presenting it at all is what I find insulting. Someone of your age and station is in no position to be passing judgments on those superior to them."

Lecter leaned over the table, so he could lower his voice and whisper:

"It's very rude and discourtesy is unspeakably ugly to me."

"I am not passing judgments on Mr. Crawford, or you, Doctor Lecter."

"No? And pray tell, what were you doing, then?" He clicked his tongue again and watched her as a hunter might watch his prey.

"I apologize for giving that impression, sir." Starling cast her eyes down momentarily and then looked up at him again. Lecter was unmoved by her apology. She could feel her cheeks turning red, though not in embarrassment. "It was an observation. You are right, Doctor, that it might have been said too bluntly, but haven't you said it yourself? Aren't unbiased third party's insights closer to the true state of things than conclusions of a party involved could ever be?"

Doctor Lecter sat there unblinking for a short moment, simply looking at her as if he suddenly saw her in entirely different light, but then shook his head. "Now you have my attention, Agent. May I see your credentials?"

Starling passed her ID to him while trying to appear unconcerned. The searching gaze made her feel even worse for she did not know what he'd been looking for and what he had found.

"The ink on this hasn't even dried yet, so to speak, Agent Starling." He observed. "Crawford sent a rookie to _me_?"

"I graduated recently, yes."

Lecter looked, if she could voice her own observation, both extremely annoyed and offended, though she was not sure what was more galling to the doctor. Was he offended by the idea of Crawford sending him nothing more than a rookie, or annoyed by the fact that the rookie had outsmarted him?

"What does he hope to achieve, anyway? I made myself perfectly clear eight years ago, although I could reaffirm my statement just for you: I still do not wish to cooperate with his unit in the foreseeable future."

"He wanted me to try, sir, so here I am." Starling shrugged, her heart finally slowing. The expression on Lecter's face shifted then from dangerously pissed off into stonily disinterested. Disinterested was good, this expression was not making her feel like she was about to be eaten alive.

"Your attempt is the feeblest I've ever seen. I'm afraid you have a lot to learn about the real and ugly world of FBI politics if you wish to succeed."

She had the audacity to grin and say unconcernedly: "It seems so. I do keep stepping on people's toes quite regularly."

Lecter looked at her pensively and after few moments he smiled lazily. "Yes, and you find it very funny, am I right?"

"Everyone needs to have fun from time to time, Doctor." Starling answered carefully and was dumbfounded at the speed of Lecter's mood changes, for now he appeared amused again and pleasantly surprised no less. Whimsical as hell, wasn't he?

"Yes, I quite agree with you on that."

He was watching her, studying her curiously. It would have been flattering if it wasn't creepy. Starling was more than happy when a discreet beeping sound caught his attention and forced him to fish out his phone. He looked at the time and then clicked his tongue, _again_. It was obviously a habit of his, though every time he did it, Starling caught a different meaning behind the sound. This time he was regretful and his next words confirmed it:

"I'm afraid I have to go, Agent Starling. My six o'clock appointment awaits."

"Of course, I don't want to detain you, Doctor, I'm sorry."

Lecter got up and put on his coat, smoothing the lapels and grinning at her, "So, you do have some manners after all, Agent Starling. Good to know."

"What can I say? Some of my teacher's preaching must have stuck."

"I took the liberty to settle your bill, if you don't mind. It was an interestingly refreshing chat we had, wasn't it? It would be fun to do it again, wouldn't you agree?" Lecter smiled fondly at her. "And now, I feel obliged to strongly suggest one thing. Fly back to Quantico, little Starling, this part of the city has recently experienced an increase in crime rates, it's not safe after sunset anymore… even for F-B-I agents."

She knew he drawled the words 'FBI' to show his utter distaste for the institution, yet he still managed to exclude her from the statement by a single look, as if he didn't consider her part of the Bureau.

"Thanks, Doctor Lecter." It was a sound warning, though.

"Ta-ta." The doctor winked and smiled at her broadly. Then he politely nodded goodbye, and, putting his hat on, strolled out into the rain.

Starling watched him cross the street and then disappear. It could have gone better, she mused; however, she could not suppress the inexplicable relief she felt at his departure and her own failure in getting his assistance. Maybe it was a bit selfish of her, and she was certain she should be ashamed, but she didn't want to interact with that man again, despite his charismatic smile and charming voice, something about him was making her tense and uneasy. Never mind the thrill.

* * *

16/5/2014 - edited by **Sephaya.** Thank you :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters of this story and I do not make any money. It's written for entertainment purposes only. Thank you.

Please read and review and have fun.

16/5/2014 - edited by **Sephaya**, thank you very much :)

* * *

**Chapter two**

"Crawford." He picked up the phone and stuck it between his ear and shoulder, then reached for his coffee. In his other hand he was holding Starling's report from Friday informing him of her failure in getting Lecter's help. He was strangely relieved that the doctor refused to take any part in the investigation. It was a loss, professionally, though Crawford was still glad he would not be dealing with the man on a daily bases, as was Starling, he was sure.

"Well, hello, Jack." The voice sounded mocking, just as he remembered Lecter sounding in the final days of their cooperation, if he could call it that.

"Doctor Lecter." Crawford sat up straighter and put down his coffee mug. Fortunately, he hadn't been swallowing the very hot liquid. He didn't fancy having his shirt stained and skin burnt, nor did he wish to choke.

"Are we going to be so formal, Jack? You wound me. How are you these days, anyway? I've heard about dear Bella, I'm so sorry."

"Thank you, Doctor Lecter. What can I do for you?" He said this through clenched teeth. Lecter mentioning his dead wife made Crawford's blood boil. He had no right to talk about her.

"Funny, here I thought it was the other way around. What can I do for you, hmm? Your birdie found me three days ago. Interesting little pet you have there."

"Agent Starling reported you didn't wish to work with us."

"Oh, I am afraid I might have left her with that impression, yes. But I was in a bit of hurry, you see, and that's the reason why I'm calling you now, to correct the misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" Crawford huffed and found the precise wording in the report. "You said 'I still do not wish to cooperate with his unit in the foreseeable future', Doctor. Seeing as this is my unit _still_, what changed your mind?"

"I'm impressed; your birdie remembered it word for word and put it in her report like a _good little girl._" Now the doctor was imitating Starling's accent and Crawford felt a strong urge to slam the receiver down. Lecter could have Baltimore high society and all of his esteemed colleagues fooled with his silver tongue and perfect manners, but Crawford had had the unfortunate pleasure of seeing his mocking, spiteful and vicious side. He could dissect people with words easily, though that was all he could do. He was all bark and no real bite.

"You have problems with me, Doc, I get it, though why are you insulting that kid is beyond me."

"Feeling protective of her, aren't we?" Lecter chuckled on the other side. "Don't even think I don't know why you sent her to me, Jack. I see right through you. It's the Chesapeake Ripper again, isn't it? Still alive and kicking? I've read the papers and noticed the tell-tale signs."

"We found another body, yes."

"And you need me to catch him."

"I need an external consultant to help on the case. Doctor Bloom is next on my list." He informed him tersely.

"She will be _so_ happy to hear from you."

"That's why I'm sending Starling."

"Tsk tsk, Jack. Another lamb to be sacrificed? Wasn't Will enough for you?" The last sentence was said coldly.

"I'm not going into this again, Doctor." Crawford briefly closed his eyes and forced out in a polite tone, "Now, if you would tell me what I can do for you…"

Lecter was silent for a few seconds and then he brusquely ordered: "Send your birdie to me with the updated case file and tell her to pack the things she will need for a few days. I'm taking her on a field trip, or should I say she is taking me? I want to see the crime scene, the body, talk with the witnesses, everything. And I want her to play the guide. Give her all the credentials needed. I need full access and full cooperation."

"Now, now, Doctor…"

"You want my expertise? I want her to be the go-between. I don't like your methods, Jack, or your bunch of fumbling lackeys, and if you insist on endangering another promising mind, I have no other choice but to make sure you won't get that mind killed before it reaches its full potential."

"So, you're with us again, Doc?"

"For the time being, yes. Please, do tell Agent Starling not to be tardy and to actually come through my door this time if possible. I shall be waiting for her at four this afternoon. Goodbye, Jack."

Crawford was more than simply stunned after the line went silent. He slowly put down the receiver and shook his head. Lecter had hung up on him in annoyingly polite way, which was not entirely surprising. Crawford was rather speechless after their conversation – the first in the last eight years, no less.

Starling must have left quite the impression. What had he called her, 'A promising mind'? He chuckled a bit and stood up, heading for her desk.

He found his rookie agent hunched over a big, and by the look of it, messy pile of paperwork in great need of organizing, which she was bravely attempting to do. Yes, Starling was just like this – doing what needed to be done without much of a fuss. Practical and steady, much like Crawford himself.

"Starling? Hello."

"Hello, sir." She looked up, surprised, and put down the papers she was holding. "Do you need something?"

"Doctor Lecter's just called. What the hell did you say to him, Starling?"

"I might have been… frank." She looked away and unsuccessfully tried to stop several papers from falling to the floor. She bent for them and Crawford watched her now pink face reappear above her desk.

"You insulted him, in other words."

"He looked a bit offended, yes."

"Good, Starling." He grinned at her disbelieving expression. "Whatever you did, you did it right, because he is willing to assist us. He wants to see the crime scene and body and he wants you to tag along and smooth things over with the locals."

Starling gave a strained smile: "Wouldn't a senior agent be the better choice, sir? I haven't had the opportunity to poke around crime scenes much, and the local sheriff office would surely expect someone older… to boss them around."

Crawford saw right through her. She didn't have any problems with handling the local authorities; she would take that in stride. It was Lecter she had a problem with. Crawford could sympathize with her so he felt compelled to lift her mood a bit.

"Consider it a baptism by fire, Starling, because with Doctor Lecter in the countryside, you will be smoothing lots of ruffled feathers. Look at it as an opportunity to learn from the master. Lecter is an arrogant ass – you never heard me say that – but he is good at what he does." He shrugged and took her by the elbow, leading her away from her desk. "Now, Starling, we need to focus on…"

* * *

Starling was packed in 20 minutes and by four in the afternoon she was ready to knock on Lecter's office door in Baltimore. They were heading down to Reedville, so why had he insisted she needed to come up here? She had gone from displeased to angry and finally resigned in the course of the past several hours and now that she was standing there, she was beginning to feel excitement coursing through her body, her heart pumping almost painfully. Meeting Lecter made her feel like this, like facing danger, and the case they were working on was a high profile one, which only added to the sensation of challenge. She was beginning to enjoy the thrill of the hunt more and more with each day spent in the FBI.

Before she could raise her hand to knock, the door opened and Lecter stood there, smiling pleasantly down at her. He was so uncomfortably close that she caught a whiff of his strong cologne while his eyes roamed over her, as if he could hear her heartbeat and smell her feelings of half- fear and half-exhilaration. He bowed his head a little.

"Good afternoon, Agent Starling, I'm so glad you managed to be on time. It won't take long, do come inside, please." He stepped aside, letting her pass. Breathing deeply as she stepped past him, he closed the door behind her.

"Hello, Doctor."

His office was spacious and decorated in soothing subdued colors with a distinctively masculine feel, the furniture was antique and expensive looking and the whole place appeared to be inviting both patients and guests to make themselves comfortable. Not Starling, though.

"Do you approve of my working space, Agent? Or would you change it somehow?" He was right behind Starling, following in her wake as she moved further into the room.

"It's very nice, Doctor, though I can't imagine myself truly relaxing in here." She ignored the impulse to turn or move away, to show any discomfort. She rarely allowed anyone to get behind her.

"Oh, and why is that?" Lecter clicked his tongue curiously and moved towards his large writing desk. There he picked up a thick envelope, his eyes never fully leaving Starling, watching her with a small smile gracing his lips. "Be frank… although if you manage not to insult me this time, I would be thankful."

Starling looked at him. The doctor was dressed in light colors today; light blue suit, white shirt, pearly white waistcoat and shade deeper blue pocket square and tie. He strangely fit into the inside of his domain, he was part of it – very stylish and very pleasing to the eye, though both the owner of the office and the place itself lacked something vital.

She smiled tightly and turned, her gaze wandering around the room, gliding over the books and the paintings. Lecter studied her avidly as she spoke.

"Your office is very tasteful, very immaculate – everything has its place, doesn't it, Doctor? – and very, very impersonal. It's cold and empty, devoid of life. It lacks warmth… soul." Starling turned back to him with her last words and even though it was not her intention, her eyes probably gave away her innermost thoughts. "I guess it's all right, though. It's only an office."

"That is so very true, Agent Starling." Lecter nodded with unreadable look in his face, for a second something flickering behind his eyes. Starling's heart slowed down in that moment and the fear she felt in Lecter's presence lessened. The exhilaration stayed on the same level, though.

"I hope you don't mind that I took it upon myself to plan our little excursion to Reedville. Must be a truly remarkable little town, don't you think? All those fishing boats, how quaint! We will be taking my car." He smiled then and slipped the envelope into his pocket, crossing to the coat-stand.

He was mocking the poor little town for sure and yet Starling found herself chuckling slightly. Lecter and small towns appeared to be incompatible.

"It would make more sense to meet up in Washington." She watched him put on his coat and hat and smooth out the non-existent wrinkles.

Lecter winked at her: "It would, if I had wished to save time. I do not. I want to share my thoughts concerning the Chesapeake Ripper with you and then treat you to dinner. Something much more palatable then you are probably used to, Agent Starling. Would you amuse me on this?"

"You really don't have a very high opinion of me, do you, Doctor?" Starling shook her head, more amused than insulted, and joined him by the door. She wanted to see those notes. "Why not, Doctor, sure. Lead the way."

He opened the door for her and with his hand on the small of her back, followed her out. Starling tried not to flinch, much. She was not a very tactile person unlike most of the people she met, Doctor Lecter, unfortunately, included. Funny, she wouldn't have guessed he was that sort of person.

"On the contrary, Agent Starling, my opinion of you is quite high. It's your tastes I doubt."

"I'll take that as a compliment, sir… a very backhanded one, though. What else do you doubt about me?"

The good doctor chuckled as he locked his office. She couldn't help but notice how many locks he had and how sturdy the door was. Her mind had started to analyze him, she recognized that now, and it was a process she did not wish to stop.

"The company you keep, Agent Starling, however, that is to be expected. You are young and easily influenced; it will take some time before you learn how to…filter your acquaintances. Keeping the bearable around, and disposing of the rest."

The way he said it, the tone and timbre of his voice and the click of his tongue against his teeth made chilled Starling. They stopped outside the building, she could see the café where they had met across the street, and she turned to face the doctor who was standing behind her, trying to locate his car keys somewhere in the pockets of his coat.

"I don't feel like leaving my car here, Doctor."

"Naturally, you can follow me and then leave it in my garage if you would like. Actually, that would be for the best, I think."

With these words, he walked up to a sleek black Jaguar with shiny silver wheels. Of course, she should have expected something like that, the car matched him perfectly– extravagant enough to catch attention and yet maintain a sense of superior tastes.

It was easy to follow such a car and Starling was enjoying her last moments of peace as much as she could. Without Lecter's presence the whole situation felt normal and routine and she relished these feelings. _Just drive, girl_ was what Delia would say and that was what Starling did. She tried not to think about what the future had in store for her and how uncomfortable the following few days were going to be.

She let her mind wander and it wandered straight to the driver of the car in front of her. Lecter, apart from his tongue clicking habit, obviously liked to have control over any situation he found himself in, always assuming the role of leader and provider. Aside from this quirk, his heavily secured door and the fact that he never fully turned his back to her, keeping her in his line of vision all the time, spoke volumes.

He was very cautious and precise, distrustful of others, and presenting the image of a perfect but slightly eccentric gentleman to the world. Meanwhile, inside, lurked someone entirely different, someone cold and very much…damaged. Lecter was not all that she had thought him to be. She perceived him as a threat, and she could not and would not change her opinion after these observations, but why would he see her in the same way? She tensed momentarily and then relaxed again.

Lecter stopped in front of a big old brick house in an upper-class section of the city and Starling shook her head to shake off all those ridiculous thoughts. Sometimes she was dumbfounded by the observations that her mind presented her with.

The white gate leading underground opened and the doctor blinked his lights at her. Starling took the hint and carefully parked inside his unnecessarily oversized and brightly lit garage. He followed, successfully blocking her exit.

Sliding the strap of her briefcase over her right shoulder, she got out of her car while he moved around his. Meanwhile, the gate was closing and Starling refused to feel caged and intimidated. Her instincts agreed that it was not the best course of action.

"This way, please." The doctor gestured towards an inconspicuous door in the wall. He took her by the elbow, bringing her closer, and unlocked it, revealing a dark staircase leading upstairs into the house. He flicked the lights on, "After you."

Starling started to climb up, while Lecter locked the heavy door behind them again. The stairs led to yet another locked door. He leaned over, unlocked it and pushed it open, giving her a small smile.

"Beware of the _cold_, Agent Starling, it could settle into your very bones." Lecter warned her in a grave voice, eyes shining with amusement. _If he can joke, I can relax a bit_, she decided.

"I'll survive, Doctor." She stepped into the entrance hall, observing through stained glass the outside world, where streetlights were beginning to come to life. Lecter switched on the lights in the whole house and steered her towards his library. His house wasn't cold inside, not in the usual sense – it just felt cold, exactly like his office did. Everything was spotless, polished and perfect. She shivered.

"Soulless, isn't it?"

"Did I manage to insult you again, Doctor Lecter?"

"You meant no harm, I hope, Agent Starling." He reached his large writing desk, which strongly resembled the one in his office, and opened the top drawer. "I don't feel offended in any way… this time. Your frankness is truly refreshing. I cannot recall meeting anyone as open as you are and I am willing to admit that my office and my house are both a bit on the more impersonal side, or so it would seem to someone such as you."

Starling moved closer – the doctor's library contained much more books than his office did, and less paintings and furniture. The color scheme was the same, though; deep brown, deep red, contrasting with a white floor and marble fireplace.

"Such as me? Have you been analyzing me, Doctor?"

She had no doubt he had been doing exactly that. It was a professional failure; neither of them could stop it. They studied each other critically and Starling was shocked to feel her mouth twitching. Lecter maintained a serious expression a minute longer, but the moment she burst out laughing, he broke and cracked a smile.

"Very much so."

"Have I passed?"

"Otherwise you wouldn't be here." The words rang in the quiet room with a steely undertone. Starling nodded and finally stepped in front of his desk and gazed at him.

"So…"

"Yes, Agent Starling?"

"You were about to tell me the results, Doctor Lecter."

"Was I? Is it just me, or are you starting to feel relaxed in my cold and soulless home?"

"It looks like it, right?"

"Oh yeah, _right_."

The accent imitation, again. Lecter had the gall to grin at her and Starling did not feel offended this time. It was strange; his smile made her nervous, his proximity was uncomfortable and yet she was not as tense as she had been only minutes ago… as if something had shifted in their interactions and she could not pinpoint what and when – she could only guess the why. Maybe it was because she was inside of his home?

"I'm more curious if you tried to analyze me, Agent Starling."

"Oh, I analyzed you, Doctor Lecter, don't worry about that."

Lecter caught her eyes and they stared at each other cautiously. Starling noticed then that the fear had left her completely. The changes taking place in the dynamics of their interaction were so sudden, so enormous, that she just was not able to keep a track of them.

She had discovered something that nobody knew, because nobody had looked, everyone believed nothing was amiss. This must be the reason why he was so wary of her – he was unable to mask his damage from her prying eyes. This must be the reason why Starling had been afraid of him, too. He looked and he saw. He knew.

Both of them were _hunters_, their instincts sharp as a razor. They needed to be wary of each other, just like predators in the wild are when they meet. She could never know when or if he would attack… though something was telling her he would not, at least not now.

His eyes were reflecting her thought perfectly. It felt as if she had known him for ages.

"Yes, it does." He showed his teeth in a small smile. "And yes, I'm afraid you did say it aloud, Agent Starling."

"I guess so." She grimaced and searched for words that would not embarrass her further. "I have to confess – you saved me from paperwork that would have lasted me years."

"Jack is unbearable but he can recognize talent – he will try to test you in another challenge soon." The doctor pursed his lips in distaste. He didn't like the current conversation topic that was obvious. Of course, his distaste for Mr. Crawford was well known.

"You would pass the test. He would find another and another, making you the perfect bloodhound, the hunter of serial killers. One day, he would set you a challenge you would not be able to pass and your dead body would be found somewhere in a ditch, or on your own porch."

Starling shifted uncomfortably, Lecter's eyes were solemn and pitying and she didn't like his tone, not one bit. It was sometimes truly frightening how easily she could guess the thoughts and motives of others and see the paths their minds were taking, the patterns in behavior nobody else could trace.

"Are you talking about me or Will Graham, doctor?" She asked. They'd been close friends, or so she heard.

"You are all the same to Jack."

"And for you, Doc?"

Lecter looked down and searched his desk. When he looked up again, his face was void of any emotion and he gave her a thick folder from inside of his drawer.

"You can go through it before dinner, Agent Starling. I shall be in the kitchen, should you need me for anything. Please, make yourself comfortable." With these words, the doctor rose from his seat and passed her, disappearing into the hallway.

_In the kitchen?_ The man's going to cook himself? She watched the door for a second, unbelieving. Some rumors in the Bureau were also suggesting that the friendship between Graham and the doctor was not just friendly.

Better to focus on the work ahead, though. Starling shook her head, banishing the imagine of Doctor Lecter in a frilly apron, and looked around, finally deciding to settle in front of the fireplace on a sofa probably more expensive than all the furniture she owned.

In a matter of seconds she found herself engrossed in Lecter's notes written all over the copies of crime scenes photos. Comments like: '_impatient today?_', '_unusually sloppy_' or '_mocking Uncle Jackie, aren't we?_' were quite common and looking at the photos with these words in mind, she could truly see it; tiny little things giving her another perspective, pointing out what others missed. Lecter had a morbid sense of humor and an eye for details.

It didn't help her to relax further on _his_ sofa in _his_ home – her gaze strayed once or twice towards the heavy door and she could not suppress the feeling of uneasiness. She knew she should be cautious, she should fear him. They were too much alike not to.


End file.
